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Untitled -- 11.19.2008
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2008 Poems Walking down the cold, quiet road.
Such a dark lonely night.
He's such a lonely sight.
The wind rustles the leaves on the ground.
Victims of the fall,
Winter all around.
Snow gently falls from above,
Blanketing everything he ever loved.
The moon appears now and again,
Breaking through the clouds high above.
Walking quietly,
On this snow filled moonlit night.
Tonight.
His night.
Let his mind jump to far ahead.
Fantasies of his mind,
Life is never that kind.
Thinks too much,
He always does.
To quick,
Ready to jump right in,
They never like him back.
Is he really that bad?
Is everything they said true?
Is he really that fucked up bastard?
Is he really not all that new?
Thought he grew.
Changed from his old self,
Became the man he always wanted to be.
Nothing really changed...
Still the same person he always hates.
Once again alone in the cold deathly night.
The wind biting at his skin,
The snow walls of his eternal grave.
Falling in deeper,
Each year more and more.
Even more alone than the past.
Here too,
After everything else,
He walks alone.
The road of his mind,
Such a solitary place,
Keeps to his own pace.
For no one is ever kind.
The dream knocked each night,
The dream of tonight.
The dream of that one man,
The guy who finally gets him,
Accepts him,
Understands him,
Holds him,
Loves him...
The dream of that man,
Yet the dream always disappears in the cold night air.
Blows away in the billowing snow,
Once again he's alone.
The moonlight glows on the white land,
Lost in the sands of winter’s desert.
Stands atop the tall hill,
The wind chilling him to the core.
Teeth rattle,
Shivers in his spine.
Yet he never falters,
Never fails.
Always there when they need him,
Yet when he is lost,
They can never be found.
Always willing to do whatever it takes to help,
And yet ditched without a thought.
Always the convenient savior,
But never the victim.
Perhaps he hides it too well,
The smiling mask,
Hides the inner demons.
Hides the cold truth.
The blood being spilt each night.
No one ever sees him on these nights,
Tears staining his face,
As he cries to the cold winter night.
Barely holding the outside together,
As the inside falls apart.
Tonight,
On a cold lonely winter night,
He has to hide no more.
The white walls of his hell,
Hide the sight from prying eyes.
Can collapse into the pool of red,
Drowning on his own self pity,
His own misfortunes,
His own demise.
Watch him fight the shackles,
The chains on his life,
Blames everyone else for them.
Yet he doesn’t see,
Only he has the key.
A drop of red hits the white carpet before him,
And the night becomes red.
The mood fades into black,
And he can't find his way back.
Driving closer to his own destruction.
Fighting the feeling of driving off the bridge.
Feel those few moments of total freedom,
Before landing in cold water of his final grave.
It won't happen tonight.
To scared to take the final plunge.
Looks down the hill,
As the moon reappears,
The gray clouds roll away.
And for one more night,
He finds his way home,
The way back to all the lies.
